Memory #13 (2 of 2)

Part 2.

My grandpa was in the ICU for quite a while. The accident had crushed many many bones and he stayed in Iowa for therapy for months and months. My dad visited him everyday. I'm so happy he did. After about 11 months of recovering, my grandpa went back to Colorado and continued therapy. Around the time he returned to Colorado, I started my student teaching in Colorado on an exchange through the University of Iowa. During my last week of teaching, I got a call from my parents and they told me that my grandpa was in the hospital and it was pretty serious. They were running a lot of tests, but it wasn't looking good. I remember eating sushi that nite. How I could barely eat, barely converse with my friends. The next day at school my name was announced over the intercom, telling me to go to the office for a phone call. It was my cousin, calling to say she was going to catch a flight that afternoon to Durango to see my grandpa. Her mom had called and said we should come right away, to say goodbye. We arrived in Durango four hours later. When I walked in to the hospital room, I handed my grandpa a picture of my cousin and me when we were very little. He smiled and handed it back. He went in to a coma an hour later. My parents couldn't find a flight since it was the day before Thanksgiving so they hopped in the car for the 20 hour drive.
While my grandpa layed there, breathing slowly, I was able to talk to him. To say goodbye. I thanked him for being so creative, so sweet, the best gift giver. Told him all the things I loved about him. Every half hour my aunt would go to hold his hand and softly murmured, mmm hmmm in his ear. I cried every time she did it. My grandpa took his last breath an hour before my dad arrived. My dad didn't get to say goodbye. For months after, my dad would ask me every time we talked to recount everything from those 24 hours. I promised my dad he went so very peacefully. That his last breath was a beautiful sound, not a scary sound.
Sometimes memories are so tough.